Mrs Weasley's Midlife Crisis
by Kat Ducat
Summary: Mr Weasley is having fun, doing what he loves best, when Mrs Weasley interrupts him and they go off on a tangent. Mrs Weasley is feeling slightly angsty. Written for the HPFC forum for A Very Potter Challenge, with the challenge being to include a quote from one of the musicals. Inspired by the line 'What? WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!"


_A/N: My very first fanfic, written for darkblack03's a Very Potter Challenge! on the HPFC forum._

)O(

"What? WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

Mr Weasley jumped and looked back guiltily at his wife.

"Molly, just let me explain," he stammered.

Riled, Mrs Weasley looked around the living room of the Burrow. She'd gone out to feed the chickens not 25 minutes ago, and somehow in that time her husband had managed to make the room unrecognizable . Cables of varying widths and wires crossed and twined themselves around on the floor, as if they were snakes involved in an elaborate mating ritual. A part of the wall next to the fireplace looked as if a very small but powerful car had driven into it. The great clock showing the location of each of the Weasleys was obscured by a sheet with dirty fingerprints all over it. Crouching next to it was a mollified but excited Mr Weasley.

Mrs Weasley squinted. She'd not taken her glasses to the chicken coop, but she feared she might be going blind.

"Arthur, what's that in your hand?"

"Ah. This, my dear, is called a power-point. Because it supplies power, you know, for muggles. They call it eckle-tricity! It's just like magic!"

By now Mrs Weasley felt drained, "you can't be messing with this again Arthur. Last time it was spark plugs, and look what happened then. You're getting home later and later everyday and whenever you are home, you lock yourself in that dreadful dark shed. The kids are at Hogwarts, and I miss you."

Mr Weasley crossed the space between them, not looking away from his wife's eyes. "Molly...you...I never realized...I thought that you talked to Tonks...or someone."

"Yes, well, Tonks has to work. And so does Maeve, and so does Grizelda. She's only the bloody Secretary of the Department for Care and Control of Magical Creatures!" Even though she had tears in her eyes, Mrs Weasley was furiously blinking them away as she felt her rage build up.

"And all I have to do all day is take care of the house. I don't want this life anymore Arthur. I feel like I'm imprisoned here. Sirius Black is on the loose and all you can think about are muggle inventions! I want to do something. I want to help catch him, Arthur. I can't just sit here and think that Harry or Ron might be killed and I didn't do a thing about it."

"Er, right. You could, um, come in to the ministry some day? I'm sure there'd be something..."

"Don't be silly. No one wants someone like me. No real qualifications, no special training. I just...I..." She hugged her stupefied husband, seeking reassurance.

Mr Weasley had a sudden brainwave, "I know just the thing you need Molly. St. Mungo's will always need more people, and right now they're looking for a nurse to care for the mentally ill. Apparently one of them has just resigned and gone on an indefinite holiday to the south of France. When I interviewed her, she was muttering something about clothes suddenly transforming into scales on one of her patients. It was either an illusion or transfiguration charm, so my department got called in. The point is, they need someone right away, and it's best if the person in question is used to odd behaviour. And you know all about odd behaviour, don't you my Mollywobbles?"

"I'd have to, living with you."

"We'll go arrange it right away then. There are a few formalities, like an examination of your medical and comfort knowledge and spells, but I'm sure you'll pass those with flying colours. You've been a nurse for years, just not a formally recognized one."

Mrs Weasley was smiling, "After being a mother I expect being a nurse will be easier."

"Come on then, you. Scourgify!"

This last utterance was directed at Mr and Mrs Weasley's clothes, which promptly lost all signs of dust and became as clean as the day they were bought. Another charm, muttered under Mr Weasley's nose, turned Mrs Weasley's dress into a more becoming set of robes.

They turned their backs onto the forgotten mess that was the living room and stepped out the door. Mr Weasley locked it, because you could never be sure, even if you were living in the middle of nowhere.

"Honey, it momentarily slipped my mind, but I think I ought to tell you that Gilderoy Lockhart is in the mental ward. I don't want you to be shocked, but do you think you can still do this?"

Mrs Weasley let out a little cry and blushed profusely, "I think I can remain impartial, thank you very much."

They disapperated at the gate.

)O(

_Fin_

_Now that you're read it, what do you think?_


End file.
